


Legacies

by saekhwa



Category: Hustle Cat
Genre: Character(s) of Color, Established Relationship, F/F, Female Characters, Inspired by Poetry, POV Character of Color
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 03:29:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12472464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saekhwa/pseuds/saekhwa
Summary: Pulling the quilt from the chest each fall has become a ritual for Mason, so she's not expecting any surprises.





	Legacies

**Author's Note:**

> It's getting chillier, and I suddenly thought: Mason + quilts. Plus, I've been trying to think of something for this [Poetry Fiction](http://poetry-fiction.dreamwidth.org/) prompt for _years_. Guess Hustle Cat was just the inspiration that I needed. Huzzah.
> 
>  _"Frogs burrow the mud_  
>  _snails bury themselves_  
>  _and I air my quilts_  
>  _preparing for the cold."_ — Nikki Giovanni

It's finally chilly enough that Mason can open up the chest and drag out the quilt from its muslin bag. It was all she got from before her falling out with Granddad. Mended now but… 

She spreads the quilt out, smoothing out the lumps as she takes stock of the frayed edges, color fading in patches where she's rubbed at the fabric too long — like around her name and along the trail of stitches that lead to her mom and dad. Then Nana and Granddad above them. 

Fingertips hovering just on the edge of the last letter of Nana's name, she gives herself a second to ache. Closes her eyes and breathes as the fabric bunches in her fist. She lets it go and carries the quilt to the bathroom, pushing it gently into the cold water in the tub until it finally sinks on its own. 

There's probably a spell for this, but Mason shakes her head the second the thought forms. This is hers, every late fall, and she's going to treat it right, just like her Nana taught her. 

So she sits on the toilet, stretching her legs and propping them on the edge of the tub as she checks her texts while the quilt soaks. There's one from Finley, a selfie of her in the window with Marina, making the peace sign and _miss you already!_ with a kissy-face emoji. Mason cracks a smile and scrolls through Snapgram next and then checks on a few food blogs she follows. 

Once ten minutes have passed, she pours a little bit of detergent into the water, swishes the quilt around, pours a little more detergent, and repeats until she's drained the half cup. She gently agitates the quilt, staring hard at the stitches to make sure none of them pop. Satisfied it'll hold, she drains the water, re-fills the tub, and lifts the corner of the quilt for a sniff test. It doesn't have that musty, held-in-storage-for-three-seasons smell anymore, but she re-fills the tub twice more before pressing out as much of the water as she can and carrying the quilt out to the balcony. 

She drapes it over the railing, where the afternoon sun is already bright and warm. She pats the quilt with an air of a job well-done, brings out a chair and sits, soaking up the peace and quiet 'til the sky turns dusky and she starts nodding off. 

What wakes her is Finley's emphatic, "O-M-G," and the slam of the door. 

Mason heads back inside just as Finley flings herself onto the couch. 

" _Mason_ ," she dramatically sighs, and immediately launches into a rant about trying to wrangle the newest cat, October. "He's—" Her eyes flash as she mimics strangling something. Probably the cat. "He's _awful_. He won't even listen to Graves! Can you believe that?"

"Hm," is all Mason says as she heads into the kitchen to fix up dinner. 

Finley gets louder to make up for it. "It's just— _Why_ is he being a little shit? Like." She breaks off with a frustrated groan. "A Cat's Paw is practically cat heaven!"

Mason's shoulders shake as she silently laughs. 

~*~

It's a week before Finley notices, and she only does 'cause they're curled up on the couch watching a movie, Finley's head on Mason's lap, when she blindly reaches up and drags the quilt down on top of her. She makes a surprised oomph, completely buried, and Mason doesn't help her wade her way out, just clears her throat so she won't laugh when Finley's head pokes through, her hair sticking up all wild despite how bone-straight it is. 

Mason's feeling charitable enough to smooth it down, but Finley's staring down at the quilt, perplexed. 

"When did you get this?" she asks, tossing the corners toward the end of the couch to cover her legs. "Oh." Her fingers twitch over Mason's name. "Mason." A pause as she traces the letters. "Mason, is this…?" Finley sits up, twisting around to look at her. 

"S'nothing," Mason murmurs, staring at the TV. 

Out of the corners of her eyes, she sees Finley's mouth open and close as she smoothes out the rest of the quilt, picking it up in pieces to examine each pair of names. 

"Mason," Finley says again, but when she glances Mason's way, she falls silent. 

Mason tenses when Finley shifts, but Finley just presses a kiss to her jaw. She drags the quilt up to her shoulders and snuggles up, not saying a word, but Mason doesn't miss the way Finley's fingers drag back and forth over her name. 

~*~

Mason has always known she works with a loud, rowdy bunch. 'Cept for Hayes, who's in the kitchen with her now, washing the dishes. 

Despite the soft clink of them, Mason can still hear Finley upstairs. "I miss the Jelly Donut days." And when she adds, "And those sweet, sweet tips," Mason can practically see the way Finley's eyes flash thinking about all that money. 

They haven't pulled in as much lately, but not for lack of trying. Finley's been trying to learn the transformation spell. But only 'cause she couldn't convince Graves to break style and perform for the camera. 

There's a muffle of someone's voice, and then Reese chimes in, "Yeah, yeah. So do the rest of us. Come on. You've wasted enough time. Get your butts up and get back to work."

"You are the _worst_ not-boss ever," Finley says. 

The second Mason hears the slap of something striking something, she's through the kitchen door and halfway up the stairs. She reaches the top, takes a look around, and sees that everyone's fine. It's just Finley, both hands flat on the table as she stares at Reese. 

"You," Finley says, and points at him. 

Like the smartass he is, Reese nods, planting a hand on his hip and cocking it out. "Me."

Finley rolls her eyes and abruptly stands, eyes widening when she spots Mason. Her whole face brightens with her smile, and Mason drops her shoulders, sliding her hands into her pockets as she nods. 

"We need to talk, Reese." Finley zooms around the table, looping her arm in his before he can escape. "Private employee stuff."

"Right now?"

" _Yes_ , right now. You guys have got this, don't you?" she asks, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she glances at Landry and Avery. 

"Finley," Avery groans. 

"We won't be long!" she sing-songs, and winks as she sweeps past Mason. 

Mason can only shake her head as she goes back downstairs while Landry tries to cheer Avery up. Not her problem tonight. 

She peeks on Hayes, sees him hunched over the sink, and heads down to Granddad's shop. Still easier when she was a cat. It's the same quiet stare when she reaches the door and he opens it wide.. 

He frowns, staring hard at the sky. "It's getting colder," he says. 

Mason nods and hands him the plastic bag. Inside it is minestrone and a slice of key lime pie she baked this morning. 

He holds it up, sniffs, and smiles. Their eyes meet over the bag as he motions for her to come inside.

~*~

"Now don't freak out," Finley says, arm looped through Mason's and not letting go, even when Mason tries to unlock the door. 

Mason frowns as they head inside, wondering… She freezes. 

"It's okay, Mason, I swear!"

Mason narrows her eyes on the couch, fixes Finley with that same narrow look as she waits for what better be a good explanation for why her quilt is missing. 

"Just give it half an hour? Ummm…" Finley glances over her shoulder, toward the door. "Fifteen minutes?"

Mason looms over Finley. "The hell'd you do?"

"Nothing, nothing, I promise! I just… wanted to surprise you and—" Finley looks at her phone, furiously swiping in the middle of a fight. 

Mason clenches her hands into fists, so she doesn't slap it out of Finley's hands. "Finley."

"Almost here! Just ten more minutes. I'll make you coffee? Or get you some of that pie? It's so good, right!" All false, exuberant brightness. 

"Finley."

Finley jumps like she forgot Mason was here. "You're right. Coffee!" She springs past Mason, straight into the kitchen, still texting, and Mason…

She takes a deep, deep breath, cracks her knuckles, and then nudges the door shut with her foot. She glances at her own phone and waits for Finley to come and explain. Each minute ticks by, and the tension coils tighter and tighter until Mason's jaw is clenched so hard that her teeth grind. 

Just as she's about to march into the kitchen, Finley darts past her. Doesn't even have a cup of coffee. She throws open the door, and—

Mason frowns at the sight of Reese, hunched over, sweating, his chest heaving with each breath. 

She'll deal with Finley later. Right now, she goes to the door, staring past him to make sure no one's on his tail. 

"What's going on?" Mason asks at the same time Reese pants, "I'm never doing you any more favors."

He glances up, probably expecting to see Finley, but when he sees Mason, he drops the bag and holds up both hands. 

"I come in peace!"

Mason frowns and glances down at the bag he dropped, which he scrambles to pick up. 

"My, uh. My job here is done. I'm leaving you two to hash this out. Finley."

"Oh, come on!" Finley says, pressing between Mason and the doorjamb, trying to reach for Reese. "You can't just leave me!"

"Yeah, I can. And." He shoves the bag into Finley's outstretched arm. "I did. You're welcome."

Finley mutters, "Brat," under her breath and retreats into the apartment with the bag, kicking the door shut once Mason ducks back inside. Her smile is bright when they face off. "Surprise?"

Mason's glare turns to a puzzled frown as she stares at the bag, back at Finley's face, back at the bag. 

"Come on," Finley says, bumping Mason with the bag and using it to herd her toward the couch. Once Mason sits, she plops it onto Mason's lap. "Open it."

Mason shakes her head, mostly at the fact that Finley isn't using her words, and unzips the bag. It's her quilt, as she suspected, but she still doesn't know why…

Her breath catches as she pulls it carefully from the bag, inch by inch, examining it, the new stitches, the brighter colors, as if her Nana just finished it and draped it over her. Tears spring to Mason's eyes, and she has to shut them, has to take in a shaky breath. 

"Surprise," Finley whispers. The couch dips when she curls up next to Mason, resting her head on Mason's shoulder and looping an arm around Mason's waist. 

"You…" It's all Mason can manage.

Finley kisses her jaw, her cheek, turning Mason's head so she can kiss the bridge of her nose. Then she kisses Mason for real. When she pulls away, Mason finally opens her eyes, which still burn with unshed tears. 

"Reese helped," Finley says, not that Mason needed the explanation. "Which you probably guessed." She laughs and kisses Mason again. Her face brightens when she stares down at the quilt, dragging it fully from the bag and onto their laps. "And did you know it was made with a little bit of magic? I mean, it makes sense that it runs in families, right? But Reese said some of the… wards?" Finley nods, self-confirmation that she used the right word. "Some of them had faded, but he reinforced them. It's like brand new, huh?"

Mason holds it up and almost buries her face in it, but she doesn't want to damage it after Reese has fixed it up. So she sniffs and tries to wipe her eyes with her sleeve only for Finley's fingers to gently brush away a couple of tears that have slipped. 

"So who made it?" Finley asks, kissing the corner of Mason's eye. 

"M—" Mason clears her throat and faces Finley with a smile. "My Nana."

Finley blinks, mouth formed into an, "Oh." Her entire face softens with her smile as she moves the quilt around until she finds Mason's name. She traces it up and taps on Nana's name. "There she is. Good as new. Your grandpa, too."

Mason half-sobs, half-laughs and nods. "Yeah." She leans into Finley's hug, sliding her hand over Finley's and holding on tight as she nods again. "All of us. Good as new."


End file.
